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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28006473">It’s 2012 again and you’re reading a fanfic about being adopted by celebrities except this time it’s Ph1LzA Minecraft</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyber/pseuds/Kyber'>Kyber</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>who needs therapy when you’ve got sbi fanfic [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, But it’s in the character tags so I hope it’s the right fandom, Dissociation, Found Family, Gen, I don’t know there’s not much to this rn, I don’t know what video blogging rpf means, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Oh shit and, Panic Attacks, Vague reference to abuse that’s really not discussed that much, completely forgot about that, dont want to trigger anyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:06:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28006473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyber/pseuds/Kyber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a very self indulgent fanfic where the Sleepy Bois are an adopted family and also I’m there. </p><p>I was sad today and read a lot of fanfiction so I could live vicariously through someone who actually has a parental figure they can trust. I have more to write for this which could happen tonight or never. I don’t know. Read if you want but I just needed to get this out of my head.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave | Technoblade &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>who needs therapy when you’ve got sbi fanfic [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I sit silently in the plastic chair, clutching my duffle bag tight to my chest. The social worker is talking to a man outside. I think he’s supposed to be taking care of me from now on. Fuck, is this real? Am I actually sitting in this building, about to go home with a stranger? It doesn’t seem real. Part of me is relieved. I won’t have to be around my dad anymore, or my grandparents. Part of me feels guilty for being relieved. Most of me is just in shock though. Sure, everyone yelled a lot and it made me feel... not so great, but was it really abuse? This whole time, was I really being abused? It doesn’t seem right. Though I guess people don’t exactly slit their wrists open for no reason. </p><p>The opening of the door startles me out of my thoughts and a blond man walks in. He gives me a smile that I don’t return. The social worker introduces him as Phil but I barely have time to file that away in my mind before she also introduces me. By my deadname. My jaw tightens but I don’t dare speak up to correct her. I know what happens if I draw attention to myself. </p><p>She continues to say something to Phil but I’m not sure what. It’s starting to sound like static. My eyes are unfocused and I have a distant thought that having my legs so tensed is starting to hurt but I don’t shift positions. I don’t move at all. Not to blink. Not to breathe either, which I don’t realize for a moment. It takes all my mental energy to focus on keeping my lungs moving at a normal pace. The man— Phil? Paul? I knew it a second ago— says something and my head twitches slightly as I try to focus enough to hear it. </p><p>“—and we can get going, yeah?”</p><p>Going. Moving. He wants me to get up and walk. My limbs move jerkily as I stand up with tense muscles. My eyes are still unfocused as they gaze vaguely towards the wall, but I can see well enough to follow him as he moves outside. </p><p>I follow him out to the parking lot towards an old but sturdy Jeep. I get in the backseat, not wanting to sit any closer to him than I have to. I buckle on autopilot then turn my (still unfocused) gaze towards the window. I hope he doesn’t try to speak to me. I don’t think I can respond. </p><p>My wish is not granted. He looks at me in the rear view mirror (I can’t see it but I can feel it and I don’t like it) as he speaks. </p><p>“So—“ and he uses my deadname, of fucking course he uses my deadname, “I’ve got three sons at home, so it is a bit crowded. You will have a room to yourself but you’ll have to share the bathroom with three teenage boys. I hope you don’t mind.” </p><p>No, I think, I don’t mind because I’m not a girl goddamn you I’m not. But I don’t say that out loud. I still can’t speak. Phil, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have that problem. </p><p>“I was planning on making pasta for dinner, do you like spaghetti?”</p><p>As long as it doesn’t have tomato sauce, is what I would like to say. </p><p>“Well,” Phil says to my silence, “if you don’t, we can whip up a sandwich or something.”</p><p>He asks something about school but is quiet for the rest of the drive when I still don’t respond. </p><p>I don’t know how long it takes before I start actually seeing what’s outside the window. My legs aren’t tensed anymore and I realize I’m exhausted. I glance at Phil then inspect the inside of the car. There’s nothing remarkable about it. An old stain on the seat next to me and a couple receipts crumpled up on the floor. Apparently Phil keeps it clean in here. </p><p>It’s quiet. </p><p>Too quiet. </p><p>I have an urge to strike up a conversation, but what would I even say out of the blue after (fifteen minutes? An hour?) however long of being absolutely silent. He’d probably be annoyed. Angry. </p><p>So I look back out the window, actually taking in the sights this time. We seem to be driving a little bit out of the city, which is nice. Maybe wherever Phil lives is near the forest. Or at least has some trees close by. </p><p>I’m fiddling with my sleeve now, anxiety building up inside of me. The silence is oppressive but I can’t break it. I wish Phil would say something. Anything. And, miraculously, he does. </p><p>“We’re almost there.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>His eyes dart to look at me in the rear view mirror, a little startled. They quickly soften into a smile. </p><p>“Do you need anything before we get there? Last chance to stop at a store before we’re out of the city—“ and he uses my deadname again. At least this time I can speak. </p><p>“My name is Arson.”</p><p>He blinks. </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>There’s a pause before he speaks again. </p><p>“What are your pronouns?”</p><p>Shocked, I meet his eyes for the first time. He actually..? I glance away again. </p><p>“They/them.”</p><p>I wait for the usual grumbling about that being grammatically incorrect or completely made up or something. </p><p>“Alright. Thanks for telling me.”</p><p>Huh. That’s the first time an adult has accepted it right off the bat. </p><p>“So do you need anything from the store, Arson?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Okay. We’ll go shopping this weekend for stuff for your room.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>He doesn’t say anything else and I start to panic. I still don’t want it to be quiet, but the window of opportunity for me to continue the conversation is quickly closing. What can I say? I wrack my brain and remember that he asked something earlier. </p><p>“I like pasta, by the way. As long as it doesn’t have tomato sauce.”</p><p>Phil smiles. </p><p>“Great! Is pesto okay?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Oh, you don’t have any food allergies, do you?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“That’s good.” </p><p>He falls quiet again. I don’t really like it, but I also don’t think I have the energy to keep talking, so I let it go.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow there was a lot of very unexpected support for the first chapter. So, I’ve decided I’ll continue writing this! A couple things first:<br/>1: I’ve decided to change the name of the oc so it’s a little more different from my irl name. I’ll edit the first chapter for this as well. <br/>2: This is still very much a ventfic! I’m not gonna be doing much proofreading or rewriting so this isn’t gonna be my best work 🤷♂️<br/>3: Updates will be erratic because I don’t have reliable motivation or internet access. However, I promise that I won’t be giving up on this entirely without at least letting y’all know. <br/>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Phil pulls into a gravel driveway I’m delighted to see that the house is practically surrounded by forest. I’ve always been more comfortable in the country than the city. </p><p>But then I see the lights on inside and remember a crucial detail. There’s three other strangers here. </p><p>My muscles tense again but not so much as to prevent me from getting out of the car. I slowly follow Phil to the front door, knuckles white as they grip my bag. </p><p>Phil opens the door with a call of “Boys! We’re home!” and immediately there’s a thud from inside. A tall blond comes sliding into view. </p><p>“Ayy! Big P! Tell Techno to stop cheating!”</p><p>Another tall teen comes into view at a slower pace, this one with pale pink hair. </p><p>“Being good isn’t cheating.”</p><p>The blond splutters. I just shrink more into myself. This house is.. very loud. In my experience, loud is never good. </p><p>“Alright,” Phil says. “Calm down. We’ve got a guest remember? Arson, this is Tommy,” he puts his hand on the blond’s shoulder. </p><p>“And Technoblade,” he indicates the pink haired guy. </p><p>Technoblade is a weird fucking name but— I decide I can’t really judge him since I literally decided to name myself Arson. </p><p>“Guys, this is Arson. They use they/them pronouns.”</p><p>Technoblade nods with a “Sup” as Tommy greets me much more enthusiastically. </p><p>“Oh, like Eret? We’re keeping our no women streak!”</p><p>“Don’t be a sexist, Tommy.”</p><p>“Wh- I’m not sexist! I love women!”</p><p>A teen with curly brown hair who’s even taller than the other two (Christ, does Phil only adopt giants??) pokes his head in. </p><p>“Oh is Tommy being sexist again?”</p><p>“I’m not fucking sexist!”</p><p>I can feel myself start to go numb again and I let it happen. I don’t really want to have to deal with this. </p><p>At some point Phil shows me to my new room and I sit on the bed until he calls me down for dinner. It’s pasta with pesto, which I would usually be excited for, but I’m still numb. I don’t say anything all through dinner and I’m not sure if anyone even tries to speak to me. </p><p>Everyone is still loud. </p><p>I don’t really come back into awareness until later that evening when I’m in my room, and that’s just because I have to get ready for bed. </p><p>I look around the room to see if there’s anything heavy enough to block the door but light enough for me to move quietly. There’s a nightstand by the bed and a desk with a chair across the room. I check to see if the chair is the right height to jam the doorknob, but it isn’t. I decide that the nightstand and my duffle bag will have to do. </p><p>After I’ve made sure the door can’t be opened, I change into my pajamas and take out my childhood teddy bear which I had made doubly sure to pack. It’s  a little embarrassing that I still sleep with it, but I can easily keep it in my duffle bag during the day. No one has to know. </p><p>I lay in bed with my teddy bear clutched to my chest, listening to the unfamiliar house settling around me in the dark. </p><p>I don’t fall asleep for at least an hour.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Arson just wants to know what the hell Wilbur’s name is</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sunlight hits my face and I instinctually bury my head under the blanket. Still half asleep, I turn to rest my back against the wall. Instead, I almost fall off, jolting awake as I scramble to stay on the bed. </p><p>As I come to full awareness I realize why there wasn’t a wall there. This isn’t my childhood bed, and I’m not in my childhood home. I’m in a completely different house with a completely different family. </p><p>I duck my head under the blanket again, tugging my teddy bear close. At least Bearsy’s still with me. The one constant in my life. </p><p>After a moment I check my phone for the time. It’s only about six in the morning, but I don’t know how early Phil’s family gets up. I decide to play it safe and get dressed, even if I don’t actually leave my room yet. </p><p>Since no one knocks on my door or shouts for me, I figure I’m good to hang out for a while. I open my phone to see if my online friend Caleb is still up. It’s nine in the evening for him, but he might’ve gone to sleep early for some reason. Fortunately he hasn’t, and I text with him for an hour before he says he’s getting tired. I wish him goodnight, sad to see him go but not wanting to make him stay up late out of guilt. </p><p>I start to scroll on twitter but instinctively hide my phone under my pillow when there’s a knock on the door. </p><p>“Arson? You awake?”</p><p>I take a breath before I’m able to give Phil a quiet response. </p><p>“Y-Yeah.”</p><p>“Alright, breakfast’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>I sit still for a few minutes, steeling my nerves for socializing at the breakfast table. I’m hopeful I’ll be able to keep up a conversation— kind of— since I was at least able to respond verbally. </p><p>I put Bearsy back in my duffle bag and then move both the bag and the nightstand away from the door. My phone is slipped into my pocket, the familiar weight grounding me as I open the door to walk downstairs. </p><p>I freeze almost immediately when the door across from me opens at the same time. Technoblade steps out and gives me a nod before heading down the stairs. I relax slightly. That wasn’t so bad. He didn’t even say anything. Breakfast is going to be fine. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe. Oh god. </p><p>Somehow I make it to the dining table. Fortunately everyone else is already there, so I don’t have to panic about which seat I should take since there’s only one empty plate left. I’m sat next to Technoblade and across from... the brown haired guy. Fuck, what’s his name? Phil’s sat at the head of the table with Tommy across from Technoblade. I hope this is the kind of family that has a routine, so I won’t have to worry about where to sit for the next meal. </p><p>Phil serves everyone a helping of scrambled eggs and bacon. I push the bacon to the side, grateful there’s enough eggs to fill me up. We eat in relative quiet for a minute before Phil speaks. </p><p>“Oh shit, are you a vegetarian?”</p><p>I blink, startled at him cursing. I’ve heard people swear before, obviously, but I wasn’t expecting it from Phil. </p><p>“Um. No?”</p><p>“Okay, good. I noticed you weren’t eating the bacon.”</p><p>“Oh. Uh, I just don’t like bacon.”</p><p>“I’ll eat it!” Tommy shouts. I make an effort not to freeze up again. I’m probably going to have to get used to him shouting, aren’t I? He doesn’t really seem to speak at any other volume. </p><p>I realize what he actually said and nod, holding my plate out for him to take the bacon. </p><p>“Thanks!”</p><p>“No problem.”</p><p>“Do you want some sausage instead?” Phil asks. </p><p>I shake my head, not wanting to make him go to the trouble of cooking something extra just for me. </p><p>“No, it’s okay.”</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>I nod. </p><p>“Alright. Well, I’ll make sure to have something else for you in the future.”</p><p>I nod again. It’s quiet for a minute before the brown haired guy speaks (I really hope someone says his name soon).</p><p>“So, Arson. You got any hobbies?”</p><p>“Besides, I presume, arson?” Technoblade adds on, to which everyone snorts or laughs. I smile slightly. I’d probably laugh as well if I was more comfortable around them, but, well. That’ll take a while. </p><p>“Uh, I read a lot. I like writing and drawing.”</p><p>“What do you read?” Technoblade asks. I shrug. </p><p>“Fiction, mostly. Fantasy, adventure, that kind of stuff.”</p><p>There’s a pause before Phil gives Tommy a look and he speaks up. </p><p>“Oh, uh, what’s your favorite animal?”</p><p>I realize Phil must’ve talked to them about trying to get to know me or something. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I guess it’s a nice gesture, but Tommy’s really dropping the ball here, isn’t he?</p><p>“Barn owl.”</p><p>“Cool, cool.”</p><p>I take a subtle deep breath, deciding to throw him a bone to help keep the conversation going. </p><p>“What do you like to do?”</p><p>“Editing! And video games! Do you play Minecraft?”</p><p>I shrug. I’ve only played on creative mode, and even that was some years ago. </p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“Well you should. We can get you an account. Me and my friend Tubbo play all the time.”</p><p>The brunette (what the hell is his name!?) interjects.</p><p>“He made all of us get accounts, you can’t escape it.”</p><p>“What do you mean escape? It’s fun!”</p><p>“I’ll admit,” says Phil. “I do enjoy it. It’s a nice way to unwind.”</p><p>“Unless you’re playing with Technoblade,” the brunette says with a teasing smile, and this is really starting to get ridiculous, will someone please say his name?</p><p>“Hey,” Technoblade protests. “Just because I might be a teensy bit competitive—“</p><p>“You stayed up like three nights in a row learning the game specifically so you could pvp better than us!” Tommy yells. </p><p>“And?”</p><p>“Are you upset it worked?”</p><p>“Wh- fuck you Wilbur, I’m way better than Techno!”</p><p>THANK GOD SOMEONE FINALLY SAID HIS FUCKING NAME, HOLY SHIT. </p><p>Wilbur snorts. </p><p>“I’ll believe it when I see it.”</p><p>Tommy says something in retaliation but I’ve started tuning it out. I’m not going numb again this time, but I don’t really see a need to be part of this. Instead, I focus on my eggs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I meant to mention this last chapter, but the characters are based more on their Minecraft characters than their real life personalities. Also, I’m using they/them pronouns for Eret. I kinda wanted to call them Alastair because that’s a badass name but since I’m not calling Technoblade fucking Dave I figured I should use Eret for them. I think that’s all for now, thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THIS WORK IS BEING DISCONTINUED</p><p>Yeah so I’ve kinda lost the motivation for this. If I get inspired again I might start writing more but don’t hold your breath. As kind of a send off, I’ve decided to post all my unfinished scenes and stuff for the story. Most of them would’ve been slotted in later in the plot. Hope you enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>— Unfinished Chapter 4 —</strong>
</p><p>Wilbur, Technoblade, and Tommy finish their breakfast one by one and quickly dump their plates in the sink before rushing off. I hesitantly make my way to the sink as well, though Phil stops me before I leave. </p><p>“I have to take the boys to school, will you be okay by yourself for an hour? You could come ride in the car if you want.”</p><p>I shake my head, relieved that I’ll have some guaranteed time to myself. </p><p>“No, I can stay here.”</p><p>“Alright. Let me make sure you have my number first.”</p><p>I pull out my phone and put in the number he recites to me. He asks me to text him so he can be sure he has mine, and then he also gives me his sons’ numbers. </p><p>I wait upstairs in my room, listening intently so I know when they’ve all left. Within a few minutes the various footsteps seem to head towards the door and I hear Phil shout. </p><p>“Bye, Arson! Call me if you need anything!”</p><p>The door slams shut and a moment later I hear the car driving away. For the first time since I was taken to the hospital, I relax. There’s no one here to be wary of, no need for me to be quiet and cautious. </p><p>I decide to take the time to explore the house, since I didn’t get a chance to take anything in the night before. I remember that Technoblade came out of the door across the hall from me so I’m guessing that’s probably his bedroom. There’s three other doors in the hallway, one on either side and one at the opposite end from the stairs. The door at the end of the hallway is open and I can see tiling, so I’m guessing it’s the bathroom. The other two doors must lead to Tommy and Wilbur’s rooms. I don’t feel comfortable snooping through their things so I head downstairs instead. </p><p>The stairs open into the living room which has a couch, a loveseat, and a sofa, none of which match each other. At least they look comfy. Next to the tv are what look like at least three different gaming systems. I’m guessing the cabinet the tv sits on has games inside. I check and, sure enough, more video games are in there than I’ve ever played in my life. Though, to be fair, I haven’t really played many to begin with. </p><p>To the right is the dining table and the kitchen. I’ve seen them already so I check out the three doors downstairs other than the front door. The one in the kitchen just leads to the backyard, so I take note of that before looking at the other two. One is a bathroom, bigger than the one upstairs but styled in the same way. They were probably built or renovated at the same time. </p><p>The last door leads to the master bedroom. I catch a peek of a desk and a bookshelf by the bed before quickly closing the door. I don’t want Phil to know I’ve been in there, even if I technically didn’t step inside. </p><p>I check the time to see how long until he comes back. I’ve still got forty minutes, so I go out the backdoor to see what the yard is like. </p><p>There’s a fenced off garden and a tool shed but otherwise it’s just a small clearing separating the house from the woods. At a second glance, I realize one of the closest trees has an old rope swing. </p><p>
  <strong>— Arson has violent urges —</strong>
</p><p>I’m not quite stomping as I leave the house but my footsteps certainly aren’t gentle. I don’t really know where I plan to go but I need to do something, anything, to expel this angry energy inside of me. </p><p>Without even thinking I whirl around to punch the nearest tree. Out of the corner of my eye I see Technoblade has followed me out. </p><p>“What do you want?” I snap. </p><p>“Fight me.”</p><p>I pause, taken aback. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It can’t be fun punching a tree. Punch me instead.” </p><p>He shrugs off his jacket and settles his stance in a fighting position, though he doesn’t raise his hands. </p><p>I turn to him, my fist still clenched. I hesitate for a moment, but then that anger wells up again and I decide fuck it. I throw a hit at his chest. </p><p>He takes a half step back but is otherwise still. </p><p>“I thought you said to fight. You’re just being a punching bag.”</p><p>Techno tilts his head in acknowledgement and swings a fist at me. It’s painfully slow, I have no trouble at all dodging it. All it does is piss me off further. </p><p>“If you’re gonna fight, don’t be a bitch about it!”</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“Yes I’m fucking sure!”</p><p>His next punch jerks my head to the side before I can even see it coming. I turn back and hit him with all my strength. Techno lets out a quiet grunt but immediately retaliates, knocking me onto my ass. I hop back up to attack him again— and again— and again. </p><p>There’s no doubt about it, Technoblade is a much better fighter than me. But neither of us are actually looking to win, and the bruises he gives me are just as satisfying as his body against my knuckles. </p><p>I’m not sure how long it’s been, but finally my anger seeps away. Exhaustion starts to set in and the next time he knocks me down I stay. I’m panting heavily, sweat drenched and sore. Techno isn’t audibly panting like I am, but I can tell his breathing is heavier. </p><p>When Techno sees that I’m not getting up, he slowly lowers himself to the ground as well, looking up at the sky like I am. The branches of the tree I punched earlier spreads above our heads in an interlocking pattern. The little patches of blue I can see between the leaves is the same color as the notebook Phil bought me. </p><p>I’m not happy, not really, but I feel at peace in this moment. I can’t remember the last time that happened. </p><p>I glance over at Techno. </p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>He meets my eyes. He doesn’t smile, but he seems sincere. </p><p>“Anytime.”</p><p>And I believe him. </p><p>After a few minutes I stand up, offering Techno my hand. He takes it, letting me help him up. </p><p>The two of us walk back to the house side by side, closer than we were before. </p><p>
  <strong>— Arson has violent urges alternate scene —</strong>
</p><p>Tommy’s shouting cuts through my focused haze and I look up with a glare, ready to snap something rude until I hear the sniffling as well. His brown haired friend (T-something?) is trying to pretend he hasn’t been crying but he also has a scrape on his chin. </p><p>“What happened, Tubbo!?” Ah, right, that was his name. </p><p>“Nothing, I just fell—“</p><p>“Then why the fuck are you crying, huh? You’re not a crybaby so what really happened Tubbo? Tell me!”</p><p>Tommy’s concerned yelling seems to do the trick as Tubbo glances down. </p><p>“I- well- someone may have... bumped into me—“</p><p>“THEY FUCKING PUSHED YOU DOWN!?”</p><p>As Tubbo tries to calm him down I carefully put my lunch away in my backpack and stand up. </p><p>“Who was it?”</p><p>“It’s not important, really—“</p><p>“Tubbo. Tell me who.” </p><p>He looks at me for a moment and then points at two older boys by the cafeteria doors. He turns back to Tommy then, probably thinking I’d handle it calmly and rationally compared to his friend. On any other day, maybe I would, but today I just see an outlet for the rage I’ve been trying to tamp down all morning. So I very calmly walk over to the two boys, and punch the first one in the face. </p><p>His friend cries out and I distantly hear Tommy’s yelling pause in shock. Tubbo says something but I’m too busy punching the next guy, and then again, and now one of them is punching back but that’s okay, I like a little bit of pain. So I punch and I punch and I punch and then to spice it up a little I give someone a headbutt before punching again. </p><p>I keep hitting them until my knuckles are splitting open and my face and chest are aching from where they’ve hit me back, but I keep going because for the first time in a long while I feel at peace. There’s no rage or anxiety or fear swelling up inside of me, suffocating me from the inside out, squeezing my heart and lungs until all I hear is fucking static. Instead, all that energy is pushed out through my fists into someone else’s face and it. Feels. <em>Good</em>. </p><p>Eventually I realize there are arms wrapping around my chest and someone else is trying to grab my fists to hold me back. Ten minutes ago I would’ve struggled and fought to keep going but my anger has leaked out now so I just gasp in air through a mouth slightly upturned in satisfaction. </p><p>The rushing in my ears starts to fade, letting me hear Wilbur’s (when did he get here?) voice in my ear. </p><p>“They’re down, Arson, you can stop, they’re not getting back up.”</p><p>I glance back at him, realizing he’s the one trying to hold me back with his arms around my chest. He’s ended up practically hugging me from behind, and he meets my eyes with a concerned expression. </p><p>“You alright now?”</p><p>I slowly nod. </p><p>“Are you gonna try to punch them again if I let go?”</p><p>I pause before gently shaking my head. He lets go cautiously, not fully pulling away until he sees that I’m not making a move to lunge forward again. The hands around my arms loosen then as well and I look to the side to see Technoblade watching me as closely as Wilbur. Instead of concerned, however, he just seems understanding. </p><p>I glance to the ground in front of me. The two boys are dazed on the ground, covered in blood and bruises, and holy shit I did that, didn’t I? I look over at Tommy with his arm wrapped around Tubbo, the scrape on his chin seeming much smaller than it did before. </p><p>Maybe I went a little overboard. </p><p>But as my racing heart calms down, and I don’t feel anything other than content, I can’t find it in me to regret it. </p><p>
  <strong>— Name change scene —</strong>
</p><p>“Hey, Arson.”</p><p>I glance up to see Phil hovering at the table. Something in his tone is more serious than usual, so I put my bookmark in to give him my full attention. He doesn’t seem angry, but I can’t quite quell the surge of anxiety in my chest. </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>He sits down. </p><p>“Do you want to change your name? Legally, I mean?”</p><p>I blink at the curveball he’s thrown before an uncertain smile spreads across my face. </p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yeah. It can’t be fun having to use your deadname on all your official papers.”</p><p>“No, it’s- it’s not. That would be amazing.”</p><p>He smiles then, sitting in the seat next to me as he continues speaking. </p><p>“Alright. I assume you want to change it to Arson, yeah?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Do you want to change your middle name too? Or your last name?”</p><p>I pause and he quickly moves to reassure me. </p><p>“You don’t have to. Think on it, yeah?”</p><p>“Think on what?”</p><p>Wilbur walks in with Techno close behind. I hear the door slam and thudding on the floor as Tommy hurries in as well, not wanting to be left out. </p><p>Phil glances at me, and I can tell he’s hesitant to tell them what we were talking about without being sure I’m okay with them knowing. I answer instead so he doesn’t have to figure it out. </p><p>“We’re gonna change my legal name.”</p><p>“Oh! Awesome.”</p><p>“Poggers. Are you gonna change your last name too?” Tommy asks. </p><p>“Yeah. My legal surname actually belongs to my biological father, I’ve been wanting to change it since I was like six.”</p><p>Phil glances at me with surprise, not expecting me to be so sure so soon. </p><p>“So..” Techno says, “Are you gonna be a Watson?”</p><p>I look down at the table, uncertain. I know that I want to change it but I’m not certain what to change it to. </p><p>Tommy scrunches up his nose. </p><p>“Arson Watson. That sounds stupid. No offense, big man.”</p><p>Techno grimaces in agreement. I agree but don’t really want to say so in front of Phil. </p><p>“Well,” Wilbur starts hesitantly. He stops, only continuing again when we’re all staring at him questioningly. </p><p>“I mean, my last name is still Soot. If you wanted to use that...” he trails off, glancing away. </p><p>I’m quiet for a moment, trying to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. </p><p>“Are.. you sure?”</p><p>He shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets with a slowly reddening face. </p><p>“If you want to, yeah.”</p><p>My eyes are suspiciously wet as I smile.  </p><p>“That would be nice.”</p><p>“Plus,” Techno interjects. “It keeps with the theme, doesn’t it?” Everyone looks at him so he elaborates. “Yknow, Arson Soot?”</p><p>And like that, the tension snaps. Wilbur snorts, Tommy cackles, and I chuckle as Phil just shakes his head with a smile. </p><p>
  <strong>— Arson is sick — </strong>
</p><p>Everything feels wrong and vomit is expelled out my mouth before I’m even fully awake. I grimace in disgust, screwing up my face when I realize that I’ve just thrown up all over the bed. It dribbles down my chin as well, though the blanket was pulled up so that nothing landed on my chest. Small mercies, I suppose. </p><p>Tired, shivery, and overwhelmed from being confronted with all this first thing when I wake up, I have trouble holding back tears. I quickly forget about that though when I feel vomit welling up again. I scramble out of bed and out the door, hardly caring how loud I am as I race to the bathroom. I barely make it in time. </p><p>I’m too busy aiming for the toilet to hear someone else step into the room. I don’t even notice Phil at all until he speaks. </p><p>“Arson? Are you okay?”</p><p>I look up at him with glassy eyes and what I’m sure must be a disgusting mess of a face. </p><p>“No,” I sniff. </p><p>He kneels next to me, making a soft hum of concern. </p><p>“Can I touch you?”</p><p>My first instinct is to vehemently deny him but... I’m exhausted, and I feel gross and sticky, and there’s an ache in my chest for comfort that manages to quiet the constant anxiety. So I nod. I still have a moment of intense discomfort when Phil touches my back, but it soon melts away as he moves his hand in gentle, soothing circles. </p><p>We stay there for a while longer as I empty the contents of my stomach. Eventually nothing more comes up and I’m left dry heaving. It hurts, but Phil’s hand is warm and he never stops rubbing my back. Somehow that makes it better. </p><p>
  <strong>(Transition I never wrote)</strong>
</p><p>I stumble slightly, causing me to lean against him. I immediately make to move away but then Phil’s arm wraps tighter around my shoulders and instead I melt into his half-embrace, letting him support me as we make our way back to my room. </p><p>
  <strong>— Unfinished Christmas oneshot —</strong>
</p><p>Tommy’s voice floated through my hazy consciousness, accompanied by something banging. </p><p>“-on! Arson! C’mon, get up! ARSON!”</p><p>I groan, blinking open my eyes. </p><p>“Whaddya want?” I slur. </p><p>“We’re cutting down the tree today! Get your ass out of bed!”</p><p>“Wh- oh! Okay, okay, I’m coming.”</p><p>“Hurry up!”</p><p>I hear Tommy leaving as I stretch out my limbs. I lay still for a moment before quickly getting up and reaching for my clothes I’d picked out the night before. Sturdy jeans, hiking boots, and of course, a very ugly Christmas sweater. I lace up my boots before heading downstairs to the usual chaos of the household. </p><p>“Ow, Tommy watch your elbows!”</p><p>“Not my fault you’re in the way.”</p><p>“Hey Techno, can you hand me the—“</p><p>“It’s over there.”</p><p>“Oh, thanks. Wilbur what have I told you about leaving your bag on the table?”</p><p>“Sorry Dad.”</p><p>“Yeah Wilbur what’s wrong with you.”</p><p>“Shut up child.”</p><p>“Hey! I’m a big man!”</p><p>“That’s exactly what a child would say.”</p><p>I slot myself into the kitchen with practiced ease, stealing the first waffle out of the waffle iron before it can burn. I put my plate on the table and turn around for one second to get the maple syrup, only to find Techno already stealing my waffle. </p><p>“Hey! That’s mine!”</p><p>“I stole it fair and square.”</p><p>Before I can argue further, Phil slides another waffle onto my plate. </p><p>“All of you, sit down.”</p><p>There’s some grumbling but within a few minutes all five of us are sat at the table, scarfing down our breakfast. We finish in record time, everyone excited for the day ahead. </p><p>Phil does his customary checkover of everyone. Tommy and Wilbur have to be sent back upstairs for better shoes and a warmer jacket respectively, while Technoblade and I share a smug look at having no complaints about our attire. </p><p>I shrug on my coat and finally we’re all ready to go. We step outside, heading towards the tool shed first. </p><p>“What the fuck are you wearing?” Tommy demands. </p><p>I give him a shit-eating grin, pulling down my Christmas sweater so it can be better seen. The sleeves have an ugly argyle pattern but the centerpiece is a knitted scene of Santa Clause golfing. It makes zero sense, and would be better off burned. Which is why I love it. </p><p>“Haven’t you ever heard of fashion?”</p><p>“That is not fucking fashion!” Wilbur says, appalled. His disgust only fuels my passion for ugly sweaters. </p><p>“Come on Wil, you wear ugly sweaters all the time!” </p><p>Wilbur gasps in dramatized offense while our family laughs at him. </p><p>“How dare you, my sweaters are the height of fashion!”</p><p>“Right, as is mine.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t know fashion if it punched you in the face.”</p><p>“Have you considered that’s exactly my aesthetic?”</p><p>“They’ve got you there,” Technoblade says. </p><p>“Wha- no they don’t! That’s not a defense! It doesn’t even make sense!”</p><p>We pause as Phil opens the tool shed, completely forgetting about the argument as a new one starts up over who gets to carry the saw. It’s solved when Phil claims that us fighting over it proves that none of us are responsible enough to have the saw so he’ll be the one carrying it. The four of us immediately team up against him to prove him wrong but he’s already set off into the forest. </p><p>We follow after, forgetting that disagreement and coming up with a dozen others. Eventually, pretending to be angry with each other gets boring and we start walking a bit more quietly, the peace broken occasionally by someone pointing out a bird or an interesting tree. </p><p>The walk continues in that way for another half an hour before I start getting bored. I glance around for something entertaining. I smile, knowing that Tommy can’t resist a challenge. </p><p>“Yo Tommy.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Bet you can’t climb that tree faster than me.”</p><p>“Which tr— HEY!”</p><p>I’ve already set off, shedding my coat as I leap onto a low hanging branch. Tommy scrambles after me, shouting protests and insisting I’m cheating. </p><p>Phil yells at us to be careful while Wilbur and Techno cheer us on, switching loyalties as quickly as they can say our names. </p><p>Tommy nearly slips and I pause to make sure he doesn’t fall. Unfortunately he takes that as an opportunity to pass me. I curse as I double my efforts, but it’s too late. </p><p>“Ha! Beat you!”</p><p>“Yeah, cause I wanted to make sure you didn’t die! Sorry for not being an asshole!”</p><p>He laughs and after a moment I do as well. We pause at the top of the tree to catch our breaths, looking down at the rest of our family. </p><p>“Bet you guys couldn’t get up here!”</p><p>“Course they can’t, Toms, they’re senile!”</p><p>“How old are you, five?” Wilbur retorts. </p><p>“How old are you, eighty?” Tommy shoots right back. </p><p>Wilbur rolls his eyes and Technoblade huffs in amusement but Phil simply drops the saw and hoists himself into the tree. Tommy and I cheer, surprised he actually took the challenge. Soon enough his head pops up next to my legs. </p><p>“How’s it going up here?” he says with a grin. </p><p>“It’s great, Dad! Wilbur and Techno are really missing out!” I direct my response mostly towards the ground and Tommy follows my lead. </p><p>“Too bad they can’t handle climbing a simple tree like we can!”</p><p>Phil laughs good naturedly as we all look down to see what their response is. </p><p>Wilbur is protesting dramatically to hide his amusement while Techno simply looks up at us with a calculating eye. Without a word, he turns to the tree next to us instead and scrambles up. </p><p>“It looks a little crowded over there.”</p><p>We laugh, then all four of us jeer at Wilbur. </p><p>“Is somebody scared to climb up with the rest of us?”</p><p>“Widdle Wilbur can’t get up here too!”</p><p>“C’mon, son, join us!”</p><p>“Yeah, don’t be a bitch!”</p><p>Wilbur shakes his head but can’t stop the smile on his face. </p><p>“You’re all ridiculous!”</p><p>He starts climbing up Techno’s tree and the rest of us cheer. He takes longer than Techno did but eventually makes it up to the same height. </p><p>We all sit there quietly for a few minutes, resting and enjoying the view. At least, until Tommy speaks up. </p><p>“Uh. Do we know how to get down?”</p><p>“Just go the way you came up,” Techno says. </p><p>“I don’t remember how I came up though!” Tommy snaps, hiding any nervousness behind frustration. </p><p>Phil shakes his head with an indulgent smile. </p><p>“Just follow me, Tommy, alright?”</p><p>“Yeah, okay.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Btw I do have other sleepy bois content I will be continuing to update if you’re interested</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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